


In My Wildest Dreams

by PaigeTico



Series: Molly Hooper Appreciation Week 2016 [2]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, Molly Hooper Appreciation Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:55:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7912435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigeTico/pseuds/PaigeTico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Day 2 of Molly Hooper Appreciation Week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Wildest Dreams

Molly stalked down the street, quiet as a mouse, swift as a cheetah. Seraph blade in hand, she kept her ears (metaphorically) pricked for any signal from her patrol partner, who just happened to be Sherlock Holmes. She didn't expect to hear anything, though. If there were demons, Sherlock would swiftly dispatch them and Molly would never know. Sherlock valued his pride, she knew, and would never ask for help. Not that he needed it. He was quite possibly the best and the brightest Shadowhunter of his age, despite being thought to be what mortals called autistic at a young age. He was different, in the way that he was more studious than a warrior, and his way of fighting was by analyzing the enemy and their behavior, and if his opponent was sentient he preferred to cripple them with psychological manipulation.

All in all, not the kind of person Molly would like to be with on a routine demon patrol.

Just as she was turning a corner into a dark alleyway she heard Sherlock's cold voice call out behind her, somewhere in the distance. 'Molly, come here. I'm on Baker Street, near number 221,’

Grudgingly she sighed, and turned to join him. If Sherlock needed help (not that he had actually said anything of the sort), then it must be something pretty bad that she was about to face, despite the relative quiet and calm of the night.

When she got there, there was no demon, no slime, no foul stench or ichor stains. No sign of any demonic activity. Her Sensor hadn't gone off, either.

There was, however, a body.

A mundane body. She couldn't tell much about it, because their features had been burned off by ichor. There were claw and bite marks on what was left of their limbs. Molly bent down, pulled on a pair of gloves from inside her coat pocket and bent down to examine it. The body looked to have been dead a few days at least...yet it didn't smell.  
'It's been dead a long time, if the rigor mortis is anything to go by,' she thought aloud.  
'I know,' snapped Sherlock.

Molly was starting to feel slightly miffed. 'So why did you call me here, if I can't tell you anything you don't already know?' she hissed back.

Sherlock shrugged. 'I...ah...wanted a second opinion. I have been informed–quite reliably, I should hope-that I can be quite...ignorant...in some areas,'

It sounded as if he was forcing the words out, and Molly knew that he probably was, given his massive ego. Still, she was humbled by his words, and so took a closer look at the body. She pulled off the shreds of the victim's shirt and saw that it was female. The skin on her stomach was largely intact, but loose, wrinkly and baggy. She'd had a child. But her breasts were not swollen with milk...so the baby had died.

Molly looked at Sherlock, and he nodded. Go ahead, he seemed to mentally say. 'Her child died...maybe that inspired her to be reckless and do something stupid, which got her killed,' Her voice wavered, uncertain, and she studied Sherlock's face. It gave away nothing she could see.  
'I hadn't thought of it that way,' he mused, and Molly felt a ridiculous rush of pride, as well as blood rising to her cheeks. She forced herself to push her feelings away and concentrate.

Sherlock continued, more to himself than to Molly. 'We would, of course, be required to report our findings...but say we didn’t, under the pretense that reporting would have slowed down an investigation...we could make far more progress ourselves in a day, working in the London Institute, than the Clave could in a month…’

Molly couldn’t stop a small smile from crossing her face upon hearing him say ‘we’.


End file.
